


Good for What Ails You

by Gone_to_Florrum



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Coruscant, Dangerous flirtation, F/M, Nar Shaddaa, Seedy underbelly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gone_to_Florrum/pseuds/Gone_to_Florrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurra's professional reputation is in the doldrums and Bane's got a perennial case of dive bar ennui.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a big Aurra/Cad shipper (though I'm also more than a little partial to Hondo/Aurra and Hondo/Cad). There's just something skinny, long-fingered assassins engaged in homicidal flirtation.

Cad Bane drained his glass and surveyed his surroundings.

Dim lights, gaudy hangings, shopworn decor, shopworn working girls and fresh blood from at least seven different species on the boards; all of it enveloped in a swirling fug of spice smoke. There were times when it felt almost as if he was living from dive bar to dive bar, with protracted intermissions of blaster fire and bounty taking to break up the tedium. 

It was life. He'd chosen it. But there were moments - usually those that came at the point just before full blown intoxication set in - when it irked him.

_More credits to my name dan a Banking Clan executive and I'm still drinkin' with de dregs._

It was the price you paid, of course. No denying that. When you were in his line of work you needed to keep your ear to the ground; and it was places like this where the floor talked loudest. 

He reached for the bottle of Corellian brandy on the table and scowled when he found it to be nine-tenths empty. As he gestured for one of the less haggard Togrutan serving girls to bring him another, he saw something at the entrance that caught his attention: a tall, slender and very pale female, clad in a form-fitting orange jumpsuit.

So, Sing was back on Nar Shaddaa. Ennui vanishing, he watched with interest as she scanned room, her eyes finally settling on him. Interest intensified as she began to make her way on over. He always liked the way she moved: the slinkiness, the sway of the hips, the way she expected everyone else to get the hell out of her way. 

She didn't ask permission to take the seat opposite him, but then he really wouldn't have expected her to.

"Sing." He tipped his hat.

"Bane." She leaned back in the chair and said nothing more.

After a couple of minutes he decided to break the silence.

"Back on your old stomping ground." He poured the last remnants of the brandy into his glass. 

"Well, it's been a while." Her voice was one of calculated neutrality. _She wants something, but she's still workin' out how to ask for it_ , he thought, knocking back the liquor.

"So what're you here for den, business or pleasure?"

"There's a difference?"

"For most people."

"Not for us."

"I jus' do it for the money."

She gave a short laugh. "You're trying to tell me that you go to all that trouble just to spend the proceeds in dumps like this?" She made a sweeping gesture.

He shrugged, not about to try and explain that for him it the acquisition of credits not the spending of them that was the was point. It was... _personal_ , and he doubted that she'd understand anyway. Aurra obviously liked her cash, liked the ego-trip of getting the real big ticket bounties, but she only seemed to value what the credits could get her: the guns, the ships, the chance hunt prey in new and interesting ways.

"You're here too, Sing."

"I'm here because I've got a proposition."

"Oh?" His gaze went almost involuntarily to her breasts.

"A _business_ proposition."

He gestured for her to go on.

"You've heard of Janna Brull?"

"Dat small arms dealer back in de Deep Core?"

"She wants a few former associates out of the picture."

"Which ones?"

"The senate representative from Besaro and four high ranking Corellian bureaucrats. Seems that after a little talk with Senator Organa about certain expense irregularities they repented for their sins and started singing about her operations along the Perlemian Trade Route."

"Sounds kinda small time to me. Brull hasn't been a major player since the Chandrillan Brothers started gun running for de Hutts."

"She's offering two million credits. They're in protective custody on Coruscant and Brull wants to sent a message to any of her other Senate contacts who might be thinking of having a crisis of conscience. I'm taking the job and I need somebody to help me get into the upper levels of the Central Administration Building?"

"Help? Choo mean you want me to work for you?" His mouth curved in amusement.

"I'm offering a twenty percent cut for showing up and clearing out a few security personnel." To anybody who hadn't made a point of watching her mannerisms closely for the last ten years her demeanour would have seemed like the perfect example of calm professionalism, but Bane knew her well enough to sense the desperation leaking out at the seams. 

_Ah, so dat's it._ Inwardly smiling at the sudden emergence of clarity, he brushed an imaginary speck of dirt from his duster.

"Awful generous of you," he remarked mildly.

Aurra shrugged. "I need someone who can get the timing right." 

He pretended to think for a moment. "Den how about choo let me do the planning. I'd cut you, say, thirty-five percent minus munitions and choo wouldn't have to worry about de little details."

Her jaw clenched. "I have the plans in order."

"What, like you did on Florrum and Alderaan?" He gave a deep rasping chuckle as she visibly recoiled. "Sing, I can read choo like a book. Dis ain't about choo getting someone to clear out a few guards. Dis is about clawin' back your tattered reputation by getting de best hunter in de galaxy to work for you."

She scowled. He could see from the way that her body stiffened and twitched that she was fighting back the urge to prove him right by smacking him upside the head with a dual-trigger blaster. "You must be even drunker than you look."

He gave a nasty smile. "Your stock's been down ever since de kark up with dat Senator from Naboo. De thing on Florrum wouldn't have hurt on its own, but combined with Alderaan...." he sighed and shook his head in pretend sympathy. 

"I had a bad run. It happens to all of us."

"Sure, but most don't end up with de whole event broadcast all over de holonet as Republic propaganda. Stunned by some self-righteous little piece of ass while you bitched out dat Padawan." He made a tsking sound. "Dat's gotta hurt."

For a moment she looked as though she didn't know whether to punch him, storm off or try and maintain her dignity. In the end she seemed to grudgingly settle on the latter.

"It'll blow over in time. Nobody cares about the mess Sugi made of the Abraxus job anymore... or the time you fell into that honey trap on Malastare." She sneered, but the expression seemed more forced than genuinely spiteful.

_You obviously do,_ he thought, but didn't say. The recollection of the way he'd been played by that Theelin girl no longer had any sting to it though. He'd been young, he'd been stupid and he'd made up for the lapse in stone cold ruthlessness since. "So why not go back to Florrum and play house with Ohnaka for a year or two? Show a little leg, shed a few tears. Tell him you're in de family way or some other poodoo. Wouldn't take much to get dat idiot Weequay to take you back for a while."

"I'm not doing _that_ for the same reason you're not hanging out on some bucolic Mid-Rim pleasure planet with harem of barely-legal Togrutan acrobats."

"I prefer Twi'leks. Dey usually got better...." He gestured towards his chest.

Choosing precisely that moment to appear at the table with his brandy, the serving girl gave him a look of out-and-out loathing: an expression that only increased in intensity when it became clear that he wasn't going to tip.

Aurra snorted as the girl stomped away. "Cheap Bane. Very cheap."

He shrugged and poured himself another drink. "She shoulda smiled. Anyway, didn't you once bust up dat place on Tattooine jus' because de owner looked at you funny?"

"I still tipped the waiter." For a few moments her lips quirked upwards. Then she seemed to remember why she was there and what had just passed between them. "So, are you interested or not?"

"Not," he said, reaching for the bottle. "I don't work for other hunters. Besides, I've seen what happens when you call de shots. Choo can follow. Choo can work alone. But choo can't take de lead and not kark it up."

He watched, hands ready to grab his blasters, for the inevitable explosion, but it didn't come. Instead she regarded him with cold blankness for a few seconds and then stood.

"Fine."

And with that she turned and strode towards the door: serving girls, dancers and patrons scurrying quickly out of her path. She had style; you had to give her that.

As exit to the public walkway slide shut behind her Bane glanced around and saw that the bar was much the same as it had been before she'd walked through the door, with the sole exception that a stringy Rodian who'd previously been downing Neutron Starburn cocktails at the bar was now vomiting in one corner of the room. The general world-weariness that Aurra's fleeting appearance had vanquished began to seep back. 

He was sorry that she'd left so quickly. It would have been amusing to tease her a little more. Far more entertaining than sitting here wondering how many more glasses it would take before any of the house girls started to look like a good bet for a night in the sack. Hell, if she'd stuck around long enough he could have probably been convinced to go along with her scheme for a bigger cut of the payoff and a few additional 'extras'. He smiled to himself as his mind threw up images of just what she might be prepared to do to get him on side. She didn't screw for money, he knew that. But _reputation_ was another matter entirely. 

No point thinking about it now though. She wouldn't ask him again. Aurra might be lacking when it came to certain aspect of self-preservation, but he'd never had cause to doubt her self-respect.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he refilled his glass and squinted at one of the Togrutas. 

Nope, still not quite there. 

_Sing, perhaps you were onto something with dat talk about Mid Rim pleasure planets._


	2. Chapter 2

He was going to be devoured alive. 

There was a snake coiled around him, its thick sinuous body squeezing tighter and tighter as he struggled to break free. The struggle however was more of a token protest than the panicked squirming of a man fighting for his life. Bane had been having this dream on and off for years, since the day he'd picked up his great uncle's old blaster and bagged his first hit. It no longer frightened him. He knew that there'd be a little more constriction, a few moments of claustrophobic suffocation and then a return to gasping consciousness. Unpleasant, but just a dream.

Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to look into the serpent's gaping maw, he never could; and so he closed his dream eyes and waited to be engulfed. 

It didn't happen.

He was there, prone and resigned in the thing's grip and it wasn't doing anything. This wasn't how it was meant to go.  
There was a shift in the weight around him and a noise that sounded suspiciously like a woman's sigh. After a few moments he looked... and saw that the snake had vanished, its grip replaced by that of long, pale limbs.

"Aurra?"

It was her all right. There was no question about that; though the slit pupils and forked tongue were an interesting new addition.

She smiled, revealing a set of long pointed fangs.

"Chur not meant to be here. Dis is Hewerno Two." For some reason the imposition irked him. She shouldn't be here... _couldn't_ be here. Hell, she'd probably still been playing with dolls and toy blasters at the time. And he'd sure as hell never told any of his fellow bounty hunter about this job. Some things were _personal_. Yet here she was in the jungle undergrowth, looking at him like he was lunch.

He tried to push her away, but like the snake her grip got tighter the more he resisted.

"Don't you want me?" There was a distinct hiss to the words.

"Not like dis."

There was a pout, followed by a wide and decidedly evil grin.

"You will."

The fangs didn't hurt as she bit down into his exposed shoulder, but he could feel his body grow warm as the venom flowed into his bloodstream.

_Funny, I thought dat stuff was supposed to chill you to da bone._

He awoke to mild hangover and a bored looking Togruta in his bed. In the murky green-tinged light of the Nar Shaddaa dawn she seemed even more tired and drawn than she had looked the night before. He could see now the sores and patches of mottling on her orange skin; telltale signs of an addiction to one of the cheaper, nastier forms of spice the Smuggler's Moon had to offer. 

He sat up and regarded her for a few moments, before nodding towards the small puddle of sequins and sheer fabric that lay on one side of the bed. She stared at him balefully for a second and then got up and started to dress. Bane reached for his duster, which he'd slung over the rickety bedside chair the previous night and took two twenty credit chips from the inside pocket. He watched as she finished pulling on her dress. It had, like the girl, seen better days. From the length of her montrails he guessed that she was about twenty or so, but lines on her face were those of a woman twice that age.

 _I sure know how to pick 'em,_ he thought, as he handed over the credits. Then with a grunt, he dismissed her.

She left without a backward glance, shuffling away in five inch heels that she'd clearly never quite got the hang of walking in: a lacklustre finish to a dull, perfunctory liaison. Feeling no particular urge to get up from the lumpy mattress just yet, he reached again for his duster and took out a packet of tabac sticks and lit one with the complimentary lighter the proprietors of the decidedly low rent hotel had seen fit to leave on the nightstand. As usual the first drag made his stomach churn, but next three soothed his gut and started to clear his head. 

_Should've offered one to Aurra last night, might've woken up with something more interestin' in de bed dis mornin'._ The thought immediately made him chuckle to himself. Ludicrous to think that a woman whose sexual favours couldn't be bought with the contents of a merchant's jewel house could be swayed by a few smokes.... Then again, she hadn't been attracted to the unctuous Devaronian, and Bane was almost certain that she was attracted to him, if only just a little. He'd started to notice the cues a couple of years ago on that job with her and Parasitti: the appraising looks, the wetting of the lips, the faint tang of pheromones that filled the air when circumstance brought them into direct physical contact. It wasn't anything he'd ever expect her to actually acknowledge, but the thought still gave him a kick. 

He was half-way through his smoke when his musings were interrupted by insistent beeping sound coming from the direction of his discarded pants. Stubbing out the tabac stick on the side of the nightstand he extracted a small communications device and hit the 'audio only' button.

 _"Bane!"_

He identified the speaker immediately. The grating tones were hard to miss. What was not immediately apparent was how the Neimoidian had found out about this particular channel. It was the line he and Embo had been using during that last job for the Aturi Merchants' Guild and he was pretty sure that the Kyuzo wouldn't be careless enough to pass on the details.

"What d'you want, Gunray?" he demanded, careful to keep any sign of surprise out of his voice. 

"I have a job for you."

"What sort of job?"

"I need you to send a message to somebody." 

The automatic presumption that Bane would take it, no questions asked rankled him, but the there was a hint of rising panic in Gunray's voice that also intruiged. "I ain't chur errand boy." 

"Oh, but this will be a very fatal message."

"Go on."

"There's a Rodian smuggler."

"Der always is."

"He's been providing the Republic with certain information. I need you to dissuade him from this unprofitable course of action."

So _that_ was why Gunray wasn't using the usual Separatist com channels. He'd been buying intel from a guy playing both sides of the track and didn't want his master and compatriots to find out just how careless he'd been.

"So you want dis one alive but scared?"

"He has certain _associates_."

"And who would dey be?"

"Underworld types on Coruscant: Revy Ti-Dups, Drygee Guberg, Thatrecap the Blue. If they were out of the picture I'm sure he'd... _reconsider_ where his interests lie."

_And chur so frightened of bein' found out dat choo've just asked de Galaxy's best hunter to do a job a street urchin with a knife could accomplish._

"Dey ain't exactly names to be scared of." Unless, of course, you were one of the sad, helpless beings who lived under their rule in one the unofficial little fiefdoms that you found scattered around the Lower Levels... but nobody who was anybody counted _them_ as anything but set dressing.

For a moment Gunray said nothing. Then he cleared his throat, a less than pleasant sound. "This job needs a certain amount of discretion."

"Choo want it to look like a local job to everyone but chur Rodian."

"Yes, that's it." He sounded pleased that Bane had cottoned on so quickly. "And you'll be richly rewarded."

"You know my usual fee... and I want an extra four-hundred thousand for keepin' all dis quiet. I'm assumin' choo don't want Dooku to hear anythin' about it."

There was a spluttering sound from the other side of the comlink, followed by several seconds of barely audible muttering. Bane smirked, pleased at how hard Gunray seemed to be fighting the urge to tell him to go to hell.

"Fine, fine." The pretend hospitality in the Neimoidian's voice had evaporated. "But I expect your complete silence on the matter afterwards."

 _And you'll have it... unless someone else makes a better offer._ "Sure, sure. You know de procedure. Half up front, half on completion."

There was a sound that managed to combine acquiescence and extreme annoyance and Gunray hit the end call.

Mood lifted, Bane reached for his hat and put it on his head. This was going to be the easiest money he'd earned in years. It was certainly not anything he needed an accomplice for, yet.... Yet an idea was already forming in his mind. One driven less by a desire for easy money and more by a desire for long, pale limbs....

 _Since when did I start thinkin' with my dick._ He shook his head. _Besides, der are plenty of Clawdites out der who could play de part for half an hour, an' most of dem charge under three hundred credits._

The truth, he knew (but preferred not to acknowledge), was that the long pale limbs were only part of the attraction. The rest... well, that was less easy to define. But the possibility of a venomous bite to the shoulder from a woman who wouldn't just lie back and spread did hold a certain excitement. 

Telling himself that he was merely opening the door for a profitable renegotiation of the offer he'd turned down the previous evening, he entered the code for a new secure channel into the com device and waited for a response.

_Half a second to detect de bleep._

_One second to identify de caller._

_Five seconds because she doesn't want to look like she doesn't have better things to do than answer chur call._

_Five more seconds because it's me and she doesn't want to look desperate._

"What do you want, Bane?"

He smiled at the heaviness in her voice. So, she'd been drinking... and she wasn't quite sober yet.

"I've been thinkin' about dat job you mentioned last night."

"Oh." Drunk or not, the forced boredom in her voice was almost convincing. She was good. Not as good as she thought she was, but good nonetheless.

"Well, de way I see it, if choo do something for me, I'll do something for choo."

There was a pause of three seconds. He could almost hear her counting it out. _Dat's right, never let on how much choo want it_.

"Go on."

"Meet me at the Red Sector Amphitheatre in two hours."

She snorted. "You've got a nerve."

"And choo've got a date."

He ended the call before she had chance to utter whatever coldly seething respond she was summoning. She'd show up, even if it was just to punch him in the face, and then.... Well, let it not be said that Cad Bane couldn't put on the charm when he wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

Located on Levels 2680 through to 2685, the Red Sector Amphitheatre was nowhere near as impressive or grandiose as the name suggested. A few hundred years ago it had been something to look at; during that period when holding vast gladiatorial battles had been rigueur for the Hutt clans. These days however the crumbling arena had been cut up and sub-divided into a thousand mean little partitions, its ornate columns and sculptures rendered cheap and dilapidated. 

Still, while the form might have changed the general function definitely hadn't.

Walking though the high arched entrance that demarcated the Amphitheatre from the surrounding brothels, bars and gambling dens, Bane drew his hat down and his collar up. There was no need to advertise his presence here, amongst the throngs of gamblers and fans there to watch the big matches. He continued along the public walkway, occasionally glancing up at a giant screen advertising a match-up between two Zabrak celebrity wrestlers or a Corellian Rules boxing final... always alert for anything that might hint at an oncoming knife in the back. After a while the crowds thinned and the bright, colourful lights took on a grimy cast. Slick advertisements for galactically broadcast prize fights were replaced by come-ons for 'All Nude Twi'lek Mud Wrestling' and 'Hot Zeltron Cat Fights'. Ignoring the scantily clad girls in doorways and furtive sex tourists, he carried on. He hadn't told Aurra which part of the Amphitheatre to meet him in, but he knew exactly where she'd be. 

As neon gave way to dim, utilitarian lighting he turned off the main track and onto a gloomy walkway that was bordered on each side by squat utilitarian buildings. The names of the establishments were painted above the entrances on roughly cut pieces of board: _The Red Fist_ , _Knife Inn_ , _Tarron's Ring_ , _The Strangle Hold_ and the enigmatically named _Gort's Fifth Redemption_. Away from the pseudo-respectable bustle and glitz of the Amphitheatre's outer circles, this was where the real connoisseurs came: the people who truly appreciated the twin arts of combat and butchery. 

He carried on until he came to a structure that, while certainly no more aesthetically pleasing than those surrounding it, was far larger. There was no name on the building, but it was known locally as Somo's, after the late Aqualish proprietor. There were also no bouncers at the door... but given the nature of the establishment they were probably unnecessary. The present management seemed to be of the mind that a little _unscheduled_ violence only added to the ambiance.

Adjusting his hat, Bane strode through the entrance and into a simply furnished but not inhospitable looking bar. There weren't many people around, but then this wasn't where the action was. The Sullustan master thief Nua Sund was by the bar conversing with a short, hairy being from a species Bane couldn't place, while a small gaggle of well dressed females had colonised one table in the corner. He didn't recognise any of the women, but they were probably just the mistresses and paid for girlfriends of enthusiasts, who didn't care for the sport themselves. When they caught sight of him a titter of excitement ran through the group.

_'Cad Bane!'_

_'Is that him?'_

_'Can't be.'_

_'Yes it is. Lionus hired him once. I was there.'_

Amused, he tipped his hat to them before heading on through a set of heavy double doors.

The stench hit him immediately: blood, sweat and a few other bodily excretions he'd rather not think about, all overlaid with a thick blanket of sickly sweet incense. They were certainly not smells he was unused to, but the sheer concentration made his eyes sting for a few seconds. 

He blinked and surveyed the arena. It was much the same as it had been the last time he'd been obliged to conduct business there: a large rectangular space with a series of stepped platforms overlooking a pit at the centre. Few beings turned their heads to look at him as he entered. Eyes were all on the Human and the Zabrak viciously slugging it out in the pit. Scanning the area, he spotted Aurra. She was sitting alone at a ring side table: face a picture of rapt fascination. A brief flicker of her gaze in his direction was the only acknowledgement of his presence that she gave.

Undeterred he headed through the crowds towards her, shoving aside any being too slow or too stupid to get out of his way in time.

"Sing," he said, seating himself next to her.

Clearly irritated by the interruption, she regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I'm watching this." Then without waiting for a response she switched her attention back to the match.

Glancing up at the ring he saw that the Zabrak was close to winning and so he sat back and watched the fight... or rather, sat back and watched Aurra watching the fight. Her arousal was obvious: the flushed cheeks, the parted mouth, the distinctive pheromones. It made her look younger, paradoxically softer.

 _And dose looks can sure be deceivin'_ , he thought, amused at the idea that a man less... _wise_ than himself might be fooled into thinking that there was something tender lurking beneath the hard edges and petty sadism. Hell, perhaps that was how she'd reeled Ohnaka in. That one had 'romantic idiot' written all over him.

As the Zabrak landed a bone crunching blow, her tongue darted out and wet her lips. 

_Though dat I can appreciate._

A pant of excitement as the Zabrak scored a second blow, breasts rising and falling in a way that seemed almost contrived to draw the eye.

 _And dat_.

This particular fight being a battle to incapacitation rather than the death, the whole thing ended abruptly when the human stopped trying to move.

Looking disappointed at the sudden cessation of violence, Aurra turned her gaze to him.

"This better be good."

"It is," he murmured. "But I'm not talking here." He gestured at the crowds seated around them.

For a few seconds she looked at the next two challengers on the benches: a Nautolan and a Twi'lek. Then seeming to come to some kind of conclusion, she stood and nodded towards an empty platform in the upper-tiers. 

He followed behind as she led on. The crowds parted in front of her even faster than they had for him, some primal cross-species survival instinct kicking in. If would have irked him, if he his attention hadn't been divided between watching for any sudden blaster draws and appreciating her back view. 

On reaching the platform, they took a corner table and sat. Both careful to select a seat that would give them a clear view of the arena.

"So what do you want?" she said, settling back.

 _You on your back_ , he refrained from saying. "I've been thinkin' about dat little proposition of yours."

"Have you really?"

 _Dat's right, carry on feigning boredom. Chur eyes give you away and choo know it, but dat's no reason to drop the pretence and lose chur self-respect._ The corners of his mouth curved upwards into something that was half-way between a smirk and a smile. "De way I see it if choo do something for me, I can do something for you."

She regarded him suspiciously. "What do you want me to do?"

He slid a datapad containing info on Gunray's targets across the table.

She picked it up, glanced at it and then snorted.

"Are you serious?"

He shrugged. "Dey need to look like isolated hits?"

"A twelve year old rookie could do this."

"But dey don't know when to keep der mouths shut." 

"So you want me take them out?"

He shrugged again. "As you say, a twelve year old rookie could do it."

"And what's in it for me?"

"You do dis for me gratis and I might just think about helpin' choo with dat job for Brull."

She gave a short, slightly bitter laugh. "I thought you didn't like my terms."

"Let's just say I've been reconsidering all de angles." He leaned forwards in his seat and rested a hand on her lower right thigh. Her eyes momentarily widened, but she didn't pull away. "I figure I can work under choo dis once, if choo can make it worth my while."

"Under me?" For a second she regarded him with an expression that could only be described as predatory. 

"What else would choo call it?" Without really thinking, he slid the hand up higher, fingers brushing against the leather of her holster.

She looked down, slapped away his hand and then leaned across the table. "You sure like pushing your luck."

He was suddenly seized by the urge to hook a finger under the neckline of her top and take a peek at what was underneath. He resisted though. There was after all a difference between flirting with danger and suicidal stupidity. "So do you."

"What's wrong, Bane, getting bored of those dull, pliant little schuttas? Want someone who makes you work for it?"

"I'm a man. I like variety."

"You're not my type."

"An' what is chur type? The dumb muscle down there?" He gestured disparagingly towards the fighters sitting lined up on the benches alongside the ring.

"It has its appeal."

"Dat how you ended up with Ohnaka?"

"Hondo's not stupid...." She paused, before adding: "All of the time."

He chuckled. "Choo know, it's almost touching, the way dat choo defend him like dat."

She scowled. "Let's just stick to business."

"And der I was thinkin' dat business and pleasure was all one and de same to you?"

"I'm not a whore." Her voice was suddenly an angry hiss.

"I ain't offerin' cash, Sing."

"Then what are you offering, Bane?"

"To put choo back in second place again. Choo want dat, don't you?"

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. She wanted it and she wanted it real bad. But the words 'second place' were never going to sit well with her, and she sure as hell wasn't going to take kindly to the suggestion that he was going to generously allow her to take that spot either.

It was a sentiment he could understand. Nobody wanted to be second best on sufferance. 

He took the sharp slap with a magnanimity that surprised himself even more than it surprised her.

She sat back, edgy and suspicious, hands caressing her holsters. "I told you, I'm not a karking whore." The cold vehemence was surprising. Usually she just responded to unwanted propositions with a few moments of cheerful violence.

 _Maybe it's different when it comes from me.... Or maybe dis place is too close to where she came from_. She'd been born near here, hadn't she; to some spice addict or other? That was the story at least. 

Either way, he could tell that he'd blown it. 

_Should've just asked her out for a drink._

Still, he could at least try and salvage something of financial benefit to himself.

"Okay den, how about dis. Choo take out de names on dat knock list I showed you and cut me fifty percent of the bounty money for de Central Administration Job and I'll let choo take de lead on it."

He watched as she considered it... or at least pretended to. He could already tell what answer would be.

_Sing, half the respectable wives in the galaxy would trade twenty minutes on their backs for a fraction of what chur willin' to pay out to me instead. I don't know whether to respect choo or think chur an idiot._

"Done." She said the word without emotion and then stood, hands still hovering near her holsters. "We can meet again in two days. I'll send the location via the usual channels."

He watched as she headed on back down to the lower-tiers and a better view of her dumb muscle and inwardly sighed. 

_Looks like it's back to de dull pliant little schuttas._


	4. Chapter 4

"Would sir care for an aperitif?"

The Duros suppressed the urge to grab the Patrolian by the neck and enquire as to whether he'd care to become part of the seafood menu. The infamous bounty hunter Cad Bane might deal with a sneering, self-important maître d' in this fashion, but the parvenu freight magnate Nol Sloss would doubtless just refuse to tip. "Jus' bring me a bottle of the Corellian stuff," he said, making a dismissive gesture. "And don't try to fob me off with any of dat cheap imitation crap from Malastare."

The Patrolian's upper lip curled at this overt show of vulgarity. "As sir wishes." He gave a perfunctory bow and then exited the private balcony. 

Glad to be free of the annoying presence, Bane leaned back and looked out at the hotel's award winning pleasure gardens. It seemed impressive enough for what it was: an artistically arranged collection of statuary, water features and rare specimens; all surrounded by a transparent dura-glass dome offering spectacular views of the Firebird Nebulae. However, his line of work wasn't the kind that tended to cultivate any sort of refined appreciation of aesthetics. 

_Kinda place you'd bring one of dose real classy Theelin girls,_ he thought, as he watched an Inner Rim senator and his holostar mistress ooh and ah at particularly lush purple and gold example of the genetic engineer's art.

He knew exactly why Aurra had demanded he meet her there rather than one of Synn Station's many low dives or abandoned cargo bays. She was trying to throw him off balance, to drag him out of the shadows and leave him exposed and discomfited in the tasteful mood lighting of the Firebird Hotel. Bane had to admit that she'd partially succeeded. Privacy forcescreen or not, he didn't like the feeling of being on display. He also wasn't too keen on the stiff, formal suit he was being obliged to wear; though the Sloss persona did at least leave him enough sartorial leeway to don a slightly less wide-brimmed version of his trademark hat. 

After a few minutes a small bronze-coloured droid glided through the aperture leading from the main dining area to the balcony bearing aloft a bottle of Corellian whiskey and a tumbler on a silver tray.

"Jus' put it down dere." Bane gestured towards the elegantly carved table. 

The small droid dutifully deposited the tray and then hovered in a way that put Bane in mind of TODO. 

"Madam says that she'll be with you shortly."

_Even sounds like TODO... dough I bet dat dis one doesn't get mouthy about bein' a goddamn techno service droid_.

"Sure, sure." He dismissed the droid with a wave of his hand. 

So, she was going to make him wait. He could live with that. He might not _like_ being on display, but he was a professional... and if it came down to it he could sit here and play Nol Sloss all night long. 

After pouring out a measure of the dark amber liquid, he took a small, thin cylindrical object from the breast pocket of the heavy black dinner jacket he was wearing and discreetly dipped one end into the tumbler. When the top of the cylinder lit up blue he placed the device back in his pocket and lifted it to his mouth. _At least she ain't tryin' to poison me dis time._.

The whiskey was, as it turned out, 'the good stuff'. Not that he'd ever really had any doubts on that score. The Maitre d' might be a sniffy little sack of guts, but he wouldn't be dumb enough to stiff a freight man when it came to hard liquor. Satisfied by the rush of warmth in his gullet as the stuff went down, he poured himself another, somewhat larger measure. It was never a good idea to drink on the job, but then he wasn't really on the job now, merely anticipating talking about the job with his temperamental associate. Besides, he could always take an anti-intoxicant later. 

He was half way down his third glass when a tall, slender figure stepped out onto the balcony. It was a sight that made him blink. Not because it wasn't Aurra  he'd notice that combination of pallor, stance and long limbs anywhere, but because it was an altered, decidedly uncanny looking Aurra. He'd figured that she wouldn't be showing up in that orange one-piece and the distinctive ponytail, but he hadn't expected the dress, the jewels or the scarlet-painted lips. 

Sneering he made a show of looking her up and down. "Don't tell me choo brought me all dis way jus' so you could play dress-up."

She shrugged and pressed a sequence of buttons on the touchpad that resided on the balcony wall. There was a shimmer as the one-way privacy screen sprang into place, concealing them from the eyes and ears of any would be interlopers. "I needed a new alias. The courier from Nal Hutta wouldn't work here."

"Why come here in de first place den? Choo ain't exactly lookin' inconspicuous." He eyed the dark red stones around her base of her neck. They, like the large emeralds that were adorning the auburn wig that she was wearing, looked suspiciously as though they came from the set that had been taken from Torsillian Crowned Princess in that pirate raid on the Royal Family's off course pleasure cruiser eight years earlier. 

"Let's just say I had an unexpected offer of employment."

"What kind of offer?" 

She gestured to the senator and the holostar, who had now turned their attention to a small waterfall. "You see them?"

"Sure."

"Look again in eight minutes." She took the seat opposite him, the dark green fabric of the dress rustling expensively as she sat. 

He eyed her for a few seconds, not quite certain what to make of her appearance. As disguises went there was a certain clever subtlety to it. Aurra Sing was infamous, but most people only looked close enough to note the ponytail, the pallor and the accessories. Take the first and last away, add a little bright makeup to the second and to the untrained eye she was the pampered heir to some minor Corporate Sector mining interest nobody in this part of the Outer Rim cared much about. It was a dangerous game, but hell, they were dangerous people. 

To Bane however the overall effect didn't seem entirely 'right'. In many ways he was a creature of habit and he was far too used to that big impractical ponytail to really take to any great divergence from it.

The neckline though...? He could certainly take to the way the bodice pushed up her breasts. 

Suddenly aware that he was staring, and  perhaps rather more importantly  that _she_ was aware that he was staring, he gestured to her throat.

"Dose rocks of yours a present from Ohnaka?" 

"These?" She raised a hand to the necklace and caressed the gems in a manner that was close to fond, an odd little smile tugging at her mouth. "They looked better on me than him."

Bane performed a few rough estimations and currency conversions and came to the conclusion that his previous suspicions about Ohnaka's romantic idiocy had been not just correct, but indeed drastically understated.

"I take it choo brought de plans?"

She took a datapad from the stupidly small clutch she was holding and tossed it to him. He looked at it, not quite able to shake the feeling of 'wrongness' that came from eyeing classified schematics while surrounded by the sights and sounds of the galactic glitterati at play. 

"Relax Bane, I'm running a jamming signal." She tapped the antenna, which was presently masquerading as a hair pin.

He scowled, rankled that she'd been able to detect his discomfiture. "Choo're planning to enter through de bottom of de bulk supplies shaft."

"Do you have a problem with that?" 

"It's on de wrong side of de building for one thing. For another it's de second most heavily guarded access point in de whole complex."

"It's heavily guarded at the base because once you're in you can go anywhere along the spine: no checkpoints, no sentinels, no automated defences... they'd interfere with the lift mechanism or something. You take out the guards and security droids you've got a free run."

"Dey'll send security to de arrival bays."

"They won't know where we plan to emerge and they don't have enough manpower to cover every level, so they'll swarm to the treasury, the defence administration block and the key information centres. Protecting the marks won't be a priority. You'll get out on Level Three thousand and eighty-one: the personnel archive and create a diversion."

"What kind of diversion?"

She shrugged. "Shoot a few guards, then seize the records for the Cross Planetary Terraforming Committee or something. I'll carry on up to Three thousand and ninety-six. Once you've got security running in your direction detonate grenades at the two points marked on the schematics and head on to the rendezvous point."

"And what about choo?"

"I'll locate the marks and take them out."

"So basically chur idea is to get to de right floor and jus' take it from dere."

"There are four places they could take the marks to once the alert goes up. Over-planning would be pointless. I'll have to take it as it comes."

_And dat Sing, is why you'll never take my spot at de top._ His satisfaction at this thought was tinged with an odd kind of exasperation. You didn't plan to wing it. You winged it when your plan and your backup had been karked to hell. 

She drummed red-painted fingernails on the table. "Why, do you have a better idea?" Her tone suggested a belief that this was about as likely as winning the Republic lottery. 

He tapped at the datapad for a few moments and then proffered it to here. "Dere you go."

She took it grudgingly and then sneered. "This takes me ten floors further up."

"De moment choo get out on three-thousand and ninety-six they'll know what choo're dere for. Dey might figure dat it'll be best to try and hole up and hope you don't manage to break through de doors... but dey might decide to make a break for de lower levels. On de other hand if dey don't suspect that anyone's coming for Brull's snitches then dey'll probably jus' take dem to the nearest safe room. Choo get out a few floors further up and choo can come down de maintenance crawlway and take them by surprise."

He could tell that she wanted to argue; to point out some gaping flaw in his argument. He also knew that she wouldn't find one. 

There was a silence of around ten seconds in which her expression went through several poorly concealed changes: irritation, embarrassment, resentment and finally haughty acceptance. 

_Yeah, dat's it. Think of a way to take it without lookin' like choo're giving in._

"You better be right about that crawlway, Bane."

He allowed himself a small smirk. "Don't worry... Of course, choo oughta remember dat my part in dis is contingent on you takin' out all de names on dat list first."

She made a dismissive, irritable gesture. "I know how to squash insects."

"Jus' so long as we're clear on dat."

They lapsed into silence again. This time it stretched on for several minutes. Bane found himself torn between getting up and taking a parting shot and waiting for her to make a move. Business had been concluded, he could slip out of the Dome, out of the confining suit and into the seedy warren of bazaars, bars, gambling dens and low rent brothels that occupied the bulk of the station. However, there was something oddly depressing about the thought of spending the night in some dingy House of Pleasure with a couple of dead-eyed, spice-addicted humanoids with cosmetically enhanced breasts that had the sole effect of highlighting how worn and sunken all the other bits were. 

_Perhaps I should take up a hobby._

The thought induced an involuntary chuckle as he imagined himself taking up gardening or model star fighter collecting.

Aurra looked at him enquiringly.

He made a dismissive gesture. "Jus' thinking."

"About what?"

"Taking up gardening."

She gave a snort, but said nothing, her eyes suddenly focussed on something in the distance.

Bane followed her gaze and found himself looking at the holostar, who was on and violently convulsing, while the wide-eyed senator looked on with an expression of ineffectual startlement.

He looked at Aurra. " _Poison_? I thought better of you."

She shrugged. "It's what the client specified."

"A shot to de head would have been quicker... no to mention safer."

"If killing her was the endgame I'd agree."

"Oh?" He regarded the scene: the medical droids swarming around the dying woman, the bodyguards leading the dazed looking senator away. "A fit-up operation?"

"She's been screwing her co-stars and running up debts at his expense. When they search her room they'll find out that her lipstick was switched for one laced with Trimezorox Seven. With a little work the authorities will trace an order for the stuff back to her lover.... She's famous enough to warrant a full investigation, even here."

Bane regarded her sceptically. "His parent's are rich enough to see dat nothin' sticks. An' dis is de Outer Rim, not some Upper Level district on Coruscant."

"But everyone will 'know' it had to be him. The client just wants him out of the senate. Incarceration won't be necessary"

"And who is de client?"

She smiled and leaned forwarded, giving him an extended view of the dip between her breasts. 

_Stickin' chur tits in my face? Now dat's a new one._

"You want to know who the client is?" 

Bane tensed as a hand came to rest on his thigh. 

"Do you think I'm some kind of amateur?" Her voice was low and throaty at odds with the snappish irritation he would have expected under usual circumstances.

_What de hell kind of game is dis?_

"I think choo like to brag," he said, managing to keep his own tones casual in spite of the long fingers creeping their way up his leg.

"We all like to do that." She reached out with the hand not squeezing his thigh and brushed the tips of her fingers against the side of his mouth. "The trick is knowing when to keep _this_ shut."

"I know my business, Sing. I was bagging heads for de Hutts back when you were playin' with dolls."

"They never let me have any dolls." For half-a-second a faraway, almost sad, look crossed her features. Then she licked her lips and smiled in a decidedly predatory fashion.

He didn't quite manage to stop himself from swallowing. 

"What de kark d'you want?" he demanded, a little more forcefully than was seemly for a being who prided himself on keeping his cool.

"You can't guess?"

He harrumphed, not prepared to let on that he had absolutely no idea. 

Without a word she rose from her chair, leant down, knocked aside his hat and kissed him full on the mouth. 

Motor functions bypassing his rational faculties, his hands went for her hips and drew her down onto his lap. 

She didn't resist, opting instead to rub up against him in a way that sent blood rushing away from his brain and towards the parts of his anatomy that were now attempting to assume primary thought control.

"You know," she murmured against the place where an ear would be on a Human, "there's always been something about you."

Before he could make enquiries about what the something in question was, her lips were on him again: harder and more aggressive than before. As small blunt teeth nipped at his mouth he felt her reach for something nestled in the bodice of her dress.

"Aurra, what de"

"Got it."

There was an explosion followed by a flash of light. Pulling back, he saw that the blue shimmer of the privacy screen was gone. Others who had previously been hidden from view were revealed in various states of shock, horror and undress. A smoking crater where a well-heeled Nautolan and his Human hangers on had been sitting, suggested the detonation of a localised but rather powerful non-incendiary charge.

He looked at Aurra, still straddling his lap, and saw that her face was a mask of pretend fear and shame.

After a couple of second of feigned shock she rose, loudly gibbered something in Huttese about her father disowning her if he found out and fled into the building.

It didn't take long for Bane to figure out what had happened. She'd decided to pull off a three in one: poison the senator's mistress, blow up some rising crime lord and screw with Bane's head, while keeping the rich slut alias intact long enough for her leave the Dome unimpeded.

The bitch had just gone and used him as a prop.

_Oh well,_ he thought, looking down at the large green stone he'd managed to pluck from her hair just before she made her getaway. _At least dis'll cover a better class of hooker for a few weeks._


	5. Chapter 5

Nobody in the Lucky Stop Cafe paid much attention to the Duros in the corner. If he'd been wearing the hat a few double-takes would have been elicited, perhaps a couple of guffaws from the regulars at the fact that a grown man would go and dress up like 'that bounty hunter guy on the news show'; but this was the Joltu Industrial district, twenty cubic miles of workshops, warehouses and small goods factories. A Duros in a duster here was just another on-world freight driver. The idea that the Republic's Most Wanted might actually be sitting amongst the working men and factory girls, staring into a cup of marrow leaf soup, wouldn't occur to them. Coruscant might be the galactic capital but there were large swathes of it that were laughably parochial. Most Joltu residents never left the district... it was pathetic really.

Raising his eyes as three sickly-looking Twi'lek-Nautolan hybrids and a weary Besalisk plodded through the door, he saw that the place was almost full to capacity.

Good, the more people were there, the less interest anyone was going to take when the datapad in his hand started receiving. 

Leaning back in the uncomfortable duraplastic seat, he took a sip of the thin, bitter-tasting soup and let his gaze wander for a while, careful not to catch anyone's eye. It wouldn't do to be seen to be too concerned with the contents of the pad. After all, the only info a delivery man needed was his next route... and possibly the latest swoop racing results. The place was remarkable only in its complete and total surrender to the mundane: the cheap but durable furnishings, the world-wary Sullustan cook, the slick patina of greasy fingerprints that seemed to cover everything, the constant flow of beings who went about their small, insignificant lives as if any of it somehow mattered. He would have loathed it, if it didn't serve to illuminate just how things might have played out if he hadn't picked up his great-uncle's blaster that day. It was vindication. Any amount of dive bar ennui was better than a life like _that_.

His eyes flicked over a pretty green Twi'lek girl; her lekku covered by one of the splotched head wraps the women from the dyeing plants wore in an effort to protect themselves from the noxious chemicals they stirred. For a moment he imagined going up to her, sweeping her off her feet and setting her up in one of those apartments on Bluefire Station where Senators and Black Sun high-ups kept their mistresses.

It was just a thought though. A fleeting fantasy. If Aurra played her part, he'd be speeding out of the atmosphere in a stolen courier vessel within the next ten hours. No room for passengers.

_Doh' if Sing karks dis one up I might jus' come back._

For a second there was part of him that almost hoped she would. Then the Twi'lek girl got up and kissed the scrawniest and most dim-witted looking of the Nautolan hybrids hard on the lips.

He scowled and looked away.

Five minutes later the datapad bleeped. 

He didn't immediately pick it up; instead he took a few more sips of the now unpleasantly cold soup and counted to twenty. A delivery man in a diner wasn't going to be too eager to get a new message from his employer during the middle of his afternoon off. When he did slip the pad out of his duster's inner pocket, he found he'd been sent a short blurb from the Coruscant News feed. There had been a small plasma explosion at a Lower Level nightclub in which the owner, Drygee Guberg, has been vaporised.

Score one.

Fifteen minutes passed before another blurb arrived, this time from a Siber District tabloid: _Merchant Savaged to Death by Own Droid: Rogue Astromech on the Loose_. Bane suppressed a smile. Well, that took care of Revy Ti-Dups 

Score two.

He got up ordered a cup of stimulant-laced Devaronian tea: the type that the drivers swilled before long haul journeys. A few seconds after retaking his seat, another bleep sounded. He gulped down the tea and then took out the datapad. An as of yet unidentified Pa'lowick female had expired from a Glitterstim overdose in the restroom of an Upper Level shopping arcade. Goodbye Thatrecap the Blue.

Three seemingly unconnected minor underworld personalities. Three seemingly unconnected deaths. Nobody would put it together other than Gunray's smuggler. Well, unless perhaps the Jedi decided to take an interest, but he doubted that would happen. Especially not with Dooku's latest play in the Mid Rim.

Another bleep.

Three words: _Come and Play_.

There was a snort from somewhere behind him. Bane turned to see a hard-bitten Weequay in a foundry foreman's helmet.

"You're a popular man," the Weequay said. "That your boss or your woman on the other end?"

Bane considered this for a moment. "Both."

The Weequay burst into harsh, wheezing laughter. "I used to work for a man who was under the thumb. Filthy temper 'is woman 'ad."

Bane noted the scarring on his arms where the tattoos of a pirate gang would have been. "What happened?" 

The Weequay lifted the leg of his blue overalls to reveal a cheap prosthetic. "'Course, then I caught religion from a sweet little Rodian nurse and ended up 'ere." He laughed again.

Bane grunted and headed for the door. _Under the thumb_? He wondered what Ohnaka would say to that.

It took him an hour to get from the cafe to the rendezvous point in the slow moving repulsor-lift truck he'd had Todo steal and repaint. Aurra had wanted to meet at a motel in the nearby Rooge pleasure district, but he'd insisted on a heavy goods vehicle park on the outskirts of Joltu. There was a time when he'd been a familiar face there and he didn't want anybody to know that he was on-world until the job was going down.... Then there was the odd discomfort he felt at the thought of her finding out just how many of the district's brothels he'd frequented over the years. 

He parked up behind a thick durasteel column, put his hat back on and waited for her to show. 

It didn't take long.

The lithe, cloaked figure detached itself from the shadows almost as soon as he cut the power. He watched and waited as it approached the driver's cabin. She'd gone with her trademark orange one-piece. Not particularly inconspicuous, but that wouldn't matter once it all kicked off. As a pale hand reached up towards the handle he saw a set of fading bruises going up her forearm. When she opened the door a slipped into the passenger seat, she shrugged off the cloak to reveal that the grey marks extended to her throat and chest.

He gave a low whistle. "Choo been wrestling Wookiees or something."

She snorted. "Alama and I had a disagreement."

There was a prickle of annoyance as he pictured the stupid thug grabbing her by the throat. Aurra might be... well, herself, but that was no reason to just pick her up and.... he mentally trailed off. They were hired killers, not gentlemen. Forcefully shoving away the unnatural chivalric impulse he adopted an expression of indifference. "Some disagreement." 

"The lunkhead accused me of trying to stiff him on a job we did for Gardulla. I told him up front it was ten thousand credits per head, but he decided that he wanted a fifty-fifty split." She smirked. "He's going to need to bag a few more marks before he can afford to get that prosthetic fixed. You should have seen his face when I fried the circuits."

Bane chuckled and recalled the Weequay from the cafe. "Choo ever blast de limbs off any of Ohnaka's men?"

"Only when they were stupid enough to get between me the target. Why do you ask?"

"Jus' curious." He glanced at the truck's chronometer. "We've got an hour and a half."

"It'll be enough."

For a couple of seconds her he looked at her, not quite sure why but compelled to nonetheless.

"What?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Choo look better without de wig."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

He shrugged and hit the power switch. "An observation."

She leaned back and began to inspect one of her blasters.

"What did you do with my clip?"

"Clip?" He frowned. She hadn't said anything about him providing her with ammo.

"The emerald one."

Ah, that stupid hair decoration. "I pawned it for two-thousand credits and spent it on three nights with a pair of Twi'lek acrobats. I figured dat after dat prick teasing session choo owed it to me."

She looked from him, to the blaster in her hand and then burst out laughing. 

In truth none of the brokers on the station had been able to offer him a satisfactory price and he'd spent the night in the company of his right hand and a particularly lurid fantasy about Aurra and Miss Fourth Month from the Ryloth Beauties calendar. However, he liked the acrobat story better. 

**-o0O0o-**

The guards never saw it coming. Delivery trucks came and went from bulk supplies all day and nobody thought that anybody would be stupid enough to attack an entrance protected by one-hundred heavily armed guards. The fact that the two-hundred heavily armed guards were mainly men who'd been rejected from more ostensibly dangerous assignments at the Senate Building and critical infra-structure had gone unnoticed.... As was the fact that a trained assassin carrying eight pounds of evenly distributed kit could run rings around a man bogged down by fifty pounds of body armour and a standard issue DC-15A blaster rifle. 

The flash grenades thrown by the Duros driver took out the first forty-six men, while the pale female passenger made a lightning fast precision strike on the comm station and its operators. 

In the two seconds it took the guards to recover their vision well enough to point their rifles at the vehicle both of the occupants were out and firing armour penetrating rounds. 

The guards returned fire.

Quick, deft and light on their feet, the attackers were out of the way before they had chance to pull the trigger.

Forty-six. Forty-eight. Fifty-four. Fifty-five.

There was nowhere in the large rectangular space to take cover. The last big load of crates, boxes and heavy machinery had gone up in the lift a few hours earlier. They were exposed, vulnerable and their opponents were just too damned fast.

As their comrades went down some of the guards began to panic: firing wildly and hitting one another in the process.

Sixty-six. Sixty-eight. Seventy-four.

The remainder banded together in front the doors to the giant lift. It was brave, heroic... and utterly futile. The Duros had one grenade remaining. He threw it.

Ninety-nine.

Satisfied, Cad Bane stepped forward. As he did a blaster bolt shot passed his face, missing flesh by less than a centimetre. 

One-hundred.

He glowered at Aurra. "What de kark was dat about?"

"That one was about to blow your head off." She gestured with the tip of her blaster to a sprawling figure. 

For a moments there was an uncomfortable silence.

 _Might as well be de gentleman_. "Thanks."

She didn't quite manage to keep the surprise off her face. "You're welcome."

The lift platform returned to the level three minutes later, clanking as it settled into place. Sing's timing had been good so far. He'd give her that. They stepped on board. 

"Should have left a survivor," Bane muttered, half in just, as he surveyed the scene of carnage. "Dat was a pretty good show."

Aurra snorted. "And you dared to accuse _me_ of vanity."

"I accused you of letting it get in de way. Dere's a difference. Choo think I don't like being known as de best damned bounty hunter in de Galaxy?"

He half expected her to come back with a retort about him only scoring pole position because Fett lost his head, but she didn't. Instead, she tapped a few commands into the lift's onboard control panel. 

_I must be growing on her._ The thought probably shouldn't have pleased him as much as it did.

They began to move upwards. As lifts went it was slow, but it wouldn't matter as long as security didn't guess where they were going to come out. He imagined that they'd tighten up after this, if only because of the embarrassment. The enlisted guards would be replaced by clone troopers who'd lost their A1 physical status but not their skill or titanium-strength nerves on tours of frontline troublespots. The bulk supplies system would be rebuilt from scratch, with checks and sentinels and all the other little inconveniences that would make any would-be assassin rethink taking that route.

It didn't matter though. If he had to break in here again he'd choose another route. Hell, if it had been up to him they'd have used Todo 360 to get them cleaning staff passes; but Aurra had never really taken to Todo and for now this was her show. 

She remained quiet as the lift continued its ascent: her eyes scanning the shaft for any nasty surprises. As she'd predicted there were none: security were doubtless rushing to the obvious targets, waiting for them to arrive. 

_Fools, de lot of 'em._

"Your stop's coming up," she said, as the number on the control panel continued to rise. "We'll rendezvous at the VIP speeder dock in twenty-five minutes."

"I won't wait for you if chur late," he said.

She smiled. "Believe me, Bane, the feeling's mutual." Then without warning she kissed him on the side of the mouth. 

For a second he just stood there, stunned. Then, before he had chance to ask what the hell she thought she was doing, the lift started grinding to a halt. 

_Time to go._

The greeting committee that he received as he headed out of the lift and into the personnel archive was rather larger than anticipated, but nothing that he couldn't handle. The security on this floor was even more pitiful than it had been down in bulk supplies: as lacklustre as their skills had been the guards down there had at least fought and died like men. Up here it was just kids in silly uniforms: big brawny boys, full of bravado right up until the moment when they caught sight of the wiry blue being emerging from the opening in the wall. Within the space of two minutes the bland white walls and grey floor covering of the archive reception had been enlivened by a liberal application of blood and scorch-marks.

The middle-aged human woman whose identity badge identified her as the Archive Manager was not stupid enough to resist when he demanded the records of the Cross Planetary Terraforming Committee, the Energy Policy Steering Group and the senate investigation into doping in the Galactic Games. Recalling how much of a fool he'd looked after the whole Rako Hardeen affair he then asked anything they had on Obi-Wan Kenobi.

 _Who knows, perhaps dey'll even be a buyer for dis stuff_.

When the data was packaged and handed over, he shot two of the archive assistants who made impolite remarks about the hat, knocked out the Archive Manager and set off to plant the diversionary charges: one by the central elevator, one by the main staircase and extra one by a panel critical to the functioning of the static surveillance equipment from this floor up.

_Choo can thank me later for dat last one, Sing._

When he heard a new set of guards rushing up the stairs, he detonated and fled.

It didn't take him long to reach the speeder dock reserved for Senators, high ranking bureaucrats and visiting dignitaries. The schematics Aurra had obtained had, for once, been accurate and he'd been playing this game for too long to opt for any of the obvious routes. His path out of the Archive was chosen to make it look like he was going to try and make for the roof until the last minute. He doubted it would matter though: surveillance was out and the civilians he passed would probably be too panicked to convey anything of worth to security, but it was stupid to leave these things to chance. 

The vehicle Aurra had planted there was a gleaming red speeder belonging to Head of Information Systems. She'd had the thing stolen, modified and returned while the man was drunk in an Upper Level imitation of a Lower Level drinking den. The door, pre-programmed to accept his genetic print, opened for him as soon as he touched the handle and so he got into the driver's seat and waited. The chronometer gave Aurra three and a half minutes to show.

When it got down to forty second an uneasy feeling began to creep over him.

 _Dammit Sing, hurry up._

If she'd got herself killed or captured before taking out the marks, he'd lose his share of the bounty money. Though of course, if she'd got herself killed or captured after taking out the marks on the other hand, he could go to Brull and claim the whole damn lot.

For some reason the second prospect didn't cheer him as much as he might have otherwise expected it to.

Thirty seconds.

No chance of getting her in the sack, for one.... No chance of asking her what the hell that little kiss in the lift had been all about.

Twenty seconds.

_Shoulda refused to do it unless she let me call the shots._

Ten seconds.

_Just have to hope she managed to bag the targets before karking it up._

Zero.

He hit the power, reached for the steering controls... and paused.

Seconds ticked by: one, two, three... twenty, twenty-one....

On twenty-two a tall, slender figure with a large sack dropped out of a window three floors above and landed with surprising grace next to an ugly blue all-terrain vehicle. It was her alright. Annoyed and relieved in about equal measure he glowered as she climbed into the passenger seat, face exultant.

"Chur late."

"You're still here." Her smile grew.

He gritted his teeth and moved the speeder out of the lot. 

_Dey'll put an emergency forcefield generator on here too,_ he thought as they moved out into the traffic. _...and few patrol vehicles around the perimeter to stop people doing dis._

"What took choo so long anyway?" he said.

"The heads." She gestured to the sack, which she'd just unceremonious slung on the back passenger seat. "Brull wanted them."

"Dat it?"

Another smile. "Well, there was something else."

"Oh?"

"The chance to settle an old score."

He sneered. "Another of your damned grudges."

"I pulled it off, didn't I?"

"Thanks to me."

"Just under thirty seconds. I'm flattered."

"Choo owe me for dat one."

For a while neither of them spoke. Then, as they joined the central traffic stream, Bane cleared his throat.

"Dat little kiss is the lift."

"What about it?"

 _What de kark did you do it for?_ Was what he planned to say. What came out of his mouth however was, by some form of strange mental alchemy, subtly changed.

"Do it again."

And she did.

Then the sirens rang out and the chase was on.

**Epilogue**

He woke up to a warm body and a face full of auburn hair. 

So, he'd finally done it and  as the surprising absence of a hangover indicated  they'd both done it in a state of near-total sobriety. The trouble was, he mused, that doing it once didn't always take away the urge. Hell, sometimes it just made you want to do it more. 

Then, because he knew that he might not get another opportunity he pinched a chalk white breast before running blue fingers over the taut flesh of her stomach and down towards

Aurra's eyes snapped open as a hand slid between her thighs. "What time is it?"

This had not been quite the response he'd been anticipating... or indeed hoping for.

He looked at the old style clock on the wall. "Oh-nine-hundred, Station time."

Excited, she reached for the room's audio-visual controls and switched on the in-room viewscreen and clicked through the options until she got to the Galactic News Network.

They were the number one item on the Coruscant Feed.... The number two item was a semi-related story about how Senators Padme Amidala and Orn Free Taa had been found together, semi-naked and in a state of Glitterstim intoxication in a sanitation cupboard in the Central Administration Building by Coruscant Security Force personnel doing a floor by floor sweep of the building following the assassinations. 

Bane couldn't quite keep himself from giving a rasping laugh. "Dat chur work?"

She lay back against the pillows and grinned. "She was there. I had some Glitterstim left over from Thatrecap. It seemed... fitting."

"Fitting?" Then he recalled how the good Senator had plastered the video of Aurra being taken down all over the holonet. "Chur a piece of work, Aurra Sing. A real piece of work."

"And that, Bane, is why you like me."

He pondered this for a few moments.

"Dat and your ass."


End file.
